Less than 1000
by refreshingbeverage
Summary: This is a growing collection of short stories, all under 1000 words. Many of them will be Rick-centric.
1. Ready for the Storm

_Prompt: Stranded_

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><p>Ready for the Storm<p>

It was raining heavily when Horatio answered the doorbell and turned on the porch light. He opened, not sure of what to say in response to a partially damp Rick Stetler standing at his doorstep.

"Coming to harass me at home?" Horatio said lowly, tightening his grip on the doorknob and preparing himself to slam it at any moment. "That's pretty low, Rick; even for you."

"This isn't about work," Rick sighed, looking up through the storm door at the older man. "I need to talk to you."

Horatio didn't budge. "What about?"

Rick bounced on his heels for a moment, trying to find the right words. Internal Affairs gave Rick the promotion to Lieutenant because he once was able to get a handle on Horatio and the other CSIs, but things have been getting out of control. For the past several weeks Horatio had been more hostile than usual towards his suspects; the complaints of brutality making their way to Rick constantly.

"Your post-traumatic incident interview after Jesse's death," Rick sighed, not wanting to meet Horatio's eyes, "you never went."

"Ahh." The redhead chuckled lowly, ducking his head and arching his eyebrows. "So this is about work. As expected, Rick."

"It's not just Jesse," he retorted, taking a small step forwards and hoping that Horatio wouldn't close the door on him. "You just keep having things get thrown at you, not all of them as drastic as death but certainly something you should talk to someone about. In the beginning I didn't say much because I thought you had a handle on it, and you did. You were able to manage everything quite well. But now you can't handle it anymore, that's pretty obvious. And you're taking it all out on your suspects. It's bad for your record. It's bad for the department. And I know it's not you, Horatio."

"I see," he nodded, although his flashing blue eyes and the low growl of his voice hinted otherwise. "So you're saying… what you're saying, Rick, is that you think I'm endangering the department and it's making you look bad."

"That's not what I said," the IA lieutenant growled back. "I'm trying to say that there's something big going on with you. Really big. And you keep trying to repress it and you're having a hard time holding back. And I don't think you're the sort of person who would start sniping people from the rooftops; I think you'll turn this all back on yourself. I know you're frustrated and I honestly think you need help."

Horatio's grip on the doorknob tightened. "I don't need help."

"Horatio, if you're depressed or bipolar or have PTSD, there are medications out there." He took a deep breath as he noticed that Horatio was glaring at him. "What you have to understand that some of this isn't you, it's a chemical imbalance. It's not supposed to be there, but you can manage it with the right treatment. Horatio, listen. With everything that's happened, I can understand. You can't just keep hiding from what happens and pretend it didn't mean as much to you. I mean; Rebecca, Eric, Julia, Saris, Kyle, Marisol-"

"-Rick."

"Resden, Rachel, Ray, Speed-"

"-Stetler."

"You know what? I'm willing to say that you didn't even talk to anyone after your mother was kill-"

"-Go to Hell."

Rick blinked as the door slammed in his face, a breeze perfumed with Horatio's aftershave brushing against him. He pulled open the storm door and knocked.

"Horatio?" he called against the wood frame. "Horatio, I went too far. I'm sorry. Look, we can talk about this. Horatio?"

He heard the soft click of the deadbolt lock before the porch light went out. Leaning against the outside walls, Rick turned to look back to the street. Rain was pouring from the awning in sheets, the flooded gutters spilling down to drown a forgotten flower bed. Somewhere across the green and grey sky thunder growled. Palm trees across the street bowed to the weight on the rain on their fronds.

Unwilling to walk back across Lieutenant Caine's front yard and even less unwilling to try to drive home in the rain, Rick sat down on the porch. The cold brick snagged small threads of his suit as he rested, pulling his knees to his chest. He knew that Horatio wouldn't be happy to see him sitting out there and would be much more content having him try to handle the slick roads; but he didn't care anymore. The two of them fought so often that their arguments were beginning to lose all meaning. It was only when they were on the same page when things began to matter at all to either of them.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rick sighed. Horatio was a series of dead-ends for him, each route looking promising and all coming to the same conclusion. After so many years of this, he was sure that there must be something wrong with him; there had to be a reason why he kept going in circles. Maybe it was Horatio and a wall he built around himself. Whatever the reason, it had gone on long enough for Rick to not even be sure if he had ever even gotten anywhere.

He looked at the puddles that formed in the street, shining silver with the rain and streetlamps. Somehow Horatio always managed to make him feel helpless. And now he was left to sit on the porch until either the rain stopped or Horatio opened the door for him; stuck without much distraction until one of the forces of nature granted him mercy.

Rick looked up at the sky and waited.


	2. Gimme Shelter

_Prompt: Natural disaster (hurricane, tsunami, etc.)_

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><p>Gimme Shelter<p>

Thunder rumbled behind the constant drone of the civil defense siren for the F3 hurricane. Despite the howling wind that pushed against the Crime Labs, the shelter set up there was almost empty. The officers and forensic examiners had, for the most part, gone home to be with their families.

The shelter had about two dozen cots, each covered with thick blankets and pillows to give the illusion of comfort. There was a television telling them not to risk going outside when the storm was so close. Cases of water, bread, and orange juice lined a wall with a locked metal cabinet, probably stocked with bandages and insulin. There was a man sitting on a cot in the corner, reading an e-reader and tapping impatiently on a coffee maker that looked like it was stolen from the break room.

"Stetler?"

Rick smirked before looking up and meeting Horatio Caine's eyes. "Horatio. Long time no see."

"What are you doing here?"

"Guarding the medicine," he answered, holding up some odd looking keys as evidence. "Did you know we keep morphine in there? I don't know about you, but if I were hurt badly enough in a hurricane to need morphine, I would be seeking refuge in a hospital."

"Well, some people don't have a choice, Rick."

"You have a suitcase," he noted, changing the subject.

Horatio looked at the good-sized suitcase he had carried down from the crime labs. "I decided to stay upstairs a little longer to get some work done. I packed it in case the storm got too rough before I could finish."

"I think we packed for the same reason," Rick commented as he watched the redheaded CSI set his luggage down on the cot next to his. "It's not like either of us have anyone to go home to."

"We don't," Horatio confirmed with a whisper, the small bed creaking slightly as he sat.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Rick trying to concentrate on his book while Horatio stared quietly at the floor. The redhead seemed to be lost in thought, a smile creeping across his lips. It was a mischievous grin that he had only when he was up to no good. Stetler knew it well.

"Alright, Caine, what is it?"

"What's what?"

"You." Sighing, Rick set his book down and sat up, facing the older man. "I'm afraid you just realized that we're probably going to be stuck here all night, just the two of us. So we are left with two routes. We could ignore each other and wait out the storm, hoping in vein that someone will come down to join us. Or we could do as we usually do, try to find new ways to annoy the hell out of each other. And seeing as there are 23 other cots in this room and you picked the one next to mine, I think you are planning on the latter."

"Always suspicious for no good reason," the redhead smirked. "I couldn't ask any less of you, Rick. Do you not think that I might just find you genuinely interesting?"

"I'm flattered, but that's not nearly a good enough reason for you."

"Then I guess you'll just have to be flattered." Horatio stretched out on the bed. "But if you want a reason – I heard a rumor."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the IAB Lieutenant tense for a second.

Rick cleared his throat. "And seeing as we're not 12, I'm guessing you know how to handle that."

"I heard someone in the break room mention something about you staying here because you knew I was 'such a workaholic that there would be no way I would make it home in time.' That it would give us 'a night to ourselves. A night alone and without interruption.'"

Rick swallowed hard, a blush creeping up the back of his neck.

"You know what that sounds like, Rick?" Horatio tested, sitting up and leaning in towards him. "It sounds… it sounds to me, Rick, that you have something planned for us."

"I don't know what you-"

Stetler quieted abruptly when the CSI leaned in and met their lips. There was a brief moment of struggle before Rick's eyes drifted closed and he took a firm grip on the front of Horatio's shirt. As they slowly broke away, the redhead chuckled softly.

"What the hell was that for?" Rick tried to growl as his cheeks flushed.

"Either what you had planned involved hitting me or kissing me back. I just didn't want to wait the rest of the night to find out which."

"Wait," muttered Rick, shaking his head. "So you knew that I wante- that is to say that I am somewhat interest- wouldn't mind experimenting… You knew?"

Horatio nodded, a sparkle in his eye that Rick never knew could be there.

"And you didn't want to wait until we maybe might have gotten to it later," Stetler figured. "So you…"

"I have to admit that you have my attention, had it for a long time now." Horatio ducked his head slightly, unable to stop himself from batting his baby blue eyes at Rick. "They say that people who argue as often as we do are just trying to subdue sexual tension. In all honesty, I'm surprised that you and I never ended up on the floor of IA, making out like a pair of drunken frat boys."

"I'm suddenly very interested in your college fraternities."

"I haven't been with anyone in a while," the redhead admitted shyly.

"To tell you the truth, neither have I."

"We can be adult about this…"

"It'll take the edge off."

Their lips met again.

"Pour me some coffee," Horatio whispered, his fingertips ghosting over Rick's thigh. "I'll push a few cots together.

Rick responded almost immediately, making Horatio smirk, thunder rattling the ceiling.


	3. I

**I**

May I confess something to you?

You've heard me idolize him for some time now. Horatio, I mean. But what I'm having a difficult time understanding is why he could ever want someone like me. He's so precise and definite while I'm just… illogical? Is that the word I'm looking for? My thought process is messy because my temperament's chaotic, let's just leave it at that.

I don't know. I try to be classy, I guess, with the suits and the champagne. There aren't many ways to get Horatio Caine's attention if you're not in a position he can easily take pity on. Don't let word get around, but that's what I felt about Julia and Marisol. One had cancer and the other has God-knows-what. They were both clear candidates for his affections. Someone he can protect against that horrible reality that would sooner leave them to die in a ditch than even try to give a fuck.

I'm sure that if _I_ had a terrible disease and voices in my head that told me to shoot up the morgue he could love me too.

No. That's a terrible thing to say. He wouldn't fall for anyone who would think that. He hasn't before.

And that's what gives me pause. _He hasn't before_. Well, I never intended to be like the others. For all these years he has fallen into relationships that put him into a position that he could so easily get hurt in. If those women really knew Horatio, then they would know that he would sooner blame himself than anyone or anything else once the slightest thing goes wrong. Think about that and then look at how they all either left or went and died on him.

What must go through his mind…

I know I wouldn't be like them. If he was with me, he would know that he doesn't have to always be the protector. He doesn't always have to be a sacrifice. I could never want him to feel that way.

I would let him cry. He wouldn't have to be strong for me. I would want him to cry on my shoulder every night if it meant that each morning he could feel just a little lighter. If with each day one of the ghosts would let him have some peace. Progress would be slow, but it would undeniably be there.

Because I've heard many times of how he is on the field. He may be a little hostile, but it's not the underlying cause. He's just scared. Who wouldn't be?

I know I'm abrasive. I'm vengeful, moody, abusive, and a little arrogant. But at least I never broke his heart… like everyone he gives a damn about did.


End file.
